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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24764167">could be nothing at all</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TolkienGirl/pseuds/TolkienGirl'>TolkienGirl</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Vintage Winchesters: Season 1 Tags [7]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Dean perennially caught between the two hard-nosed Winchesters, Episode Tag, Episode: s01e07 Hook Man, F/M, Gen, Grief/Mourning, POV Dean Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 11:27:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>500</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24764167</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TolkienGirl/pseuds/TolkienGirl</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam is becoming both more and less himself.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dean Winchester &amp; Sam Winchester, Jessica Moore/Sam Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Vintage Winchesters: Season 1 Tags [7]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1777720</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>30</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>could be nothing at all</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em>We could stay</em>, he says, and he doesn’t mean forever, but he will, of course, mean almost anything for Sam.</p><p>Sam is becoming both more and less himself. It depends on the time of day. How often Dean tries to push beyond banter, research, logistics. What they have for breakfast, what the weather’s doing.</p><p>Get Sam a breakfast burrito, with avocado—where the hell did Iowa get avocados?—and he’s genuinely rather than resignedly hungry.</p><p>Turn on a Blues Traveler song Dean doesn’t even remember Sam hearing before, and he gets distant and pissy, which Dean recognizes, and blank-eyed, which Dean doesn’t.</p><p>(<em>And I'll lie too and say I don't mind</em></p><p><em>And as we seek so shall we find</em>)</p><p>It depends on the day itself. They didn’t do anything for Christmas. Valentine’s Day hit almost harder, for Sam, but Dean kept him out of any place that sold chocolate hearts and roses-by-the-dozen.</p><p>He knows, now, that Jess hated roses. Thought they were too cliché.</p><p>Dean didn’t know her, though. Now he never will.</p><p> </p><p>“You know, winter’s never going to be over if we spend the whole damn year in the northern Midwest.”</p><p>They’re in southern Minnesota<em>.</em> “Just passing through, Sammy.”</p><p>Silence. No, <em>it’s Sam</em>.</p><p><em>It’s Sam</em> has his thumb in his mouth, chewing at his knuckle. There’s a scab there.</p><p>“Leave that,” Dean says. “Your finger will fall off.”</p><p>“No, it won’t,” Sam says. But he tucks his hand in his jacket pocket. His bangs are practically in his eyes. Dean looks away, back at the road. Sam was already a sasquatch when he left. Already too tall.</p><p>Maybe that’s why he still looks so young.</p><p> </p><p>“What did you mean, <em>stay</em>?” Sam asks, over a chicken sandwich that has no avocado on it, and thus, that he does not really want to eat. At least, that’s the conclusion Dean has decided on. He is sick of watching Sam pick the breading off the filet but, well, one must choose one’s battles.</p><p>He thinks that’s in the Bible somewhere.</p><p>(He knows it’s not.)</p><p>At the moment, Sam has asked him a question. Sam’s questions, like Dad’s, demand answers. Unlike with Dad, Dean can say, as he does now, “Huh?”</p><p>“Back at—I know it was about Lori, man. But I just—”</p><p>“Ah. Right.” Dean swallows a fry practically whole. “I didn’t mean forever. Just in case you wanted to take a break. Get to know her.”</p><p>“I don’t want to take a break,” Sam says. His face is about one degree from full-on bitch face. But something thoughtful slips in at the last possible second. “I mean, I appreciate the gesture, but…that’s not what we’re doing here.”</p><p>Here, of course, could be almost anywhere.</p><p>“Is it?” Sam presses.</p><p>Another question.</p><p>“Yeah, no. Forget I said anything.”</p><p>“OK,” Sam says, like they’re drawing up a friggin’ peace treaty.</p><p> </p><p>The blank-eyed look. It <em>is</em> familiar; it’s just shining out of the wrong face.</p><p>That’s Dad. The new Sam is more like Dad.</p>
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